


Champion of My Heart

by Lunarium



Series: Sheith New Years 2019 [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Arena, Arm Wrestling, Carnival, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Forced to fight, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sheith New Years, Shiro's PTSD, some violence and gore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 08:18:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17321348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarium/pseuds/Lunarium
Summary: Whenever fear takes hold of Shiro, only one thing—one man—can keep him grounded.





	Champion of My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> For H/C Bingo's prompt "arena" as well as Sheith New Year's Day 6 prompt: The Past. 
> 
> Thank you so much to somegoodsheith for looking this over! <3

He awoke with a start after an unsettling sleep. Blood still clung to his face and clothes, the stench of his enemy still thick on him. The jeers and shouting from the crowd in the arena still echoed in his ears, as did the screams from the giant foe, the scrapping of sword against hard ground, the sound of bone snapping—

Shiro drew to his knees, panting heavily. Squeezing his eyes shut— _I killed! I killed someone!_ —he wept in the dark cell. The sound of the crowd still carried; how many more victims did they drag to the gladiators? How many more times would they drag him back? Or would they kill him? 

They’ll have to eventually. He was dying anyway. 

_Not like this_ , Shiro thought, wiping away his tears and hugging himself in the cold dark. He always thought he would expire back on Earth, either surrounded by loved ones or alone if he managed to piss off enough people; or if he was being romantic, he would die up in a space shuttle in the middle of his final mission. 

Not like this. Not violently. 

How stupid was he to go on this mission? And Adam, who had been growing sick of his love for the stars, finally had given up on him. All for this. Left him in the dark. 

And then: an image, bathed in warm sunset light, filled Shiro’s mind. He was back at the day of the launch, engulfed in a tight embrace, and when the other young man moved aside, Keith’s face filled his vision; his eyes shone with genuine care and affection as he looked up at him. 

“I’ll wait for you,” he said. “However long it takes. Just go, be great!” 

Back in the cell, Shiro swallowed thickly. Keith. His friend. Maybe his _only_ friend, if anything had happened to Sam and Matt. He still counted on him. He still wanted to see him again. 

“I killed someone tonight, Keith,” Shiro said in a voice so low that it wouldn’t reach past the cell. “Do you still want to see me, buddy?” 

And yet each time he was back in the arena, back in the fight, Keith’s face would return, a flash haunting him, encouraging him. Each time he was driven to the brink of insanity, weeping and screaming as his arms were drenched to the elbows with an innocent being’s blood, Keith’s gentle words returned to him, and he would remember, again and again, he was human. He had a life prior to this, and he had a friend. Each time he felt he was close to giving up, Keith’s eyes would flash through his mind and a newfound strength would fill him. 

His friend. His friend. Someday, though it seemed less and less likely each day, someday, he might see his friend—Keith—again.

*

“Come, let’s have some fun!”

Keith grumbled but sighed, seeing no point in arguing the matter. Shiro chuckled to himself as he led Keith around the carnival. He pointed out some rides of possible interests, but none of which Keith wanted. He tried tempting him to some games, but still Keith’s attention strayed elsewhere. 

_So grumpy_ , Shiro thought with adoration. If it were anyone else he would have grown exasperated, but there was something about the way Keith managed to be grumpy that just delighted Shiro. It was a challenge to him, a puzzle to figure out how to get under those many layers and raise a tickle out of him. 

Keith wanted to stay on alert for Honerva, and Shiro did not blame him. But what was wrong with playing a few games while keeping an eye out? 

He pulled Keith towards a high striker, grinning broadly as the operator handed him a mallet. 

“Isn’t that cheating?” The grouchy operator asked, pointing at Shiro’s right arm. 

Shiro shrugged. “I’ll be fair!” 

“Use your left arm.” 

Shiro’s eyes narrowed into slits. “How about I play two rounds? One strike per arm?” 

The operator checked around himself, noticing no one else was coming to play, then turned back to Shiro. “Fine.” 

Keith, who had been standing with his arms folded, cocked one eyebrow. He checked for any strangeness around them, but Shiro quite pretty certain Honerva wasn’t hiding behind a cart of purple and orange cotton candy. 

First strike. Second strike. The bell bonged both times as the celebratory lights lit up around them. The operator grumbled under his breath. Shiro turned to him with a big grin. 

Keith’s attention, which had admittedly been glued to Shiro while he played, had already averted back towards the crowd. It wasn’t until something soft brushed his cheeks that Keith yelped and jumped out of his reverie, ready to strike at—a Shiro plushie. 

“Paladin plush,” Shiro said as he placed one adorably small and soft Shiro plush in one hand, and then one Keith plush in Keith’s other hand. “That’s the prize for this game. Thought you’d like them!” 

“They’re…nice,” Keith’s face softened into a smile as he stroked plush-Shiro’s face. Shiro beamed as Keith attached the two dolls to his belt. 

“Where would you like to go next?” Shiro asked as he glanced about them, taking in the full view of the carnival. A few things caught his eye, one in particular, but…his cheeks brightened. “There’s…the Ferris Wheel…or whatever that is, it looks like one…or…um, they have these little boats for two that’ll take you down a water tunnel, um, if that’s… _something-you-want-to-do_ —or we can just eat! Doesn’t have to be anything extravagant! We can just try some of those cotton candy and the roasted crestnuts, or—”

Shiro finally looked back and gasped. Keith wasn’t there. When did he leave? How long had Shiro been rambling to himself? Did Keith catch him talking about the Tunnel of Love? 

His heart sank before fear took over. Did Keith see something? Was he in danger? 

“Keith?” Shiro said. He peered through the crowd, a sea of aliens and occasional crew from the Atlas, but no paladin suit with red stripes. 

“Keith!” 

He searched and searched until he felt himself growing dizzy. Something was pounding in his head. A moment later, and he was able to place it: shouting…a crowd…cheering…

An arena. 

His heart sank and his feet froze into ice. Yet somehow he found himself walking closer to the tent. Perhaps Keith was in there. He hadn’t checked in here yet. 

He stood transfixed. Somewhere in the back of his mind was a thought: _This is not the gladiators! It’s just arm wrestling! You’re being ridiculous! Get out of here!_ But he couldn’t move. 

“Well, look who decided to actually show up,” drawled an irritated voice. Shiro glanced down at Drazan’s leader. Was he running this? 

“Good to see you too, Burr,” Shiro said in attempt to remain as diplomatic as possible. 

The conversation went downhill all too quickly. Burr had put Shiro’s and his friends’ integrity on the chopping board in front of everyone, slandering the name of Voltron and their allies. Did he not realize what they had endured throughout their journey? Their suffering? It had been so long since the last time Shiro had been pushed to the edge. He could feel his entire cheeks burn with pent up anger. 

“Whoa, what’s going on here?” a welcoming voice broke through the haze. 

Shiro breathed a sigh of relief. Keith was here, Hunk right behind him looking confused but startled at how distressed Shiro must have appeared. The shouting from the crowd was getting to him. He had to get out of here. 

“Who’s this, your mommy?” Burr said. “What did I say? You can’t trust Voltron to follow through. They’re already leavin—” 

_“Sign me up!”_ Shiro screamed, pointed at the arm wrestlers. “You want to see a show? I’ll give you one!” 

Keith gasped and went up to him. He placed a hand on his trembling shoulder. “Shiro…no.” 

“I’ll be fine,” Shiro said in a soft voice. “Just keep an eye on me, all right?” 

Keith looked uncertain for a moment before giving Shiro a smile. “Of course.” 

The first round went quickly; Shiro had been so angry he must have crushed his enemy’s arm. He felt horrible and guilty, and his memories flashed to a time in _that_ arena, being forced to break an opponent’s neck, and then miscalculating, nearly tearing them in half; their innards had splattered all over his hands—Shiro took several deep breaths and gripped the handle on the table to hide the fact that his hand was trembling terribly. 

The crowd’s cheers rattled in his head. 

He looked up and saw Keith in the crowd, arms folded, his gaze firmly on him. Flashes of memories—Keith’s smile, how warm his arms were as Shiro woke back in the world of the living; Keith’s eyes looking down on him, full of affection and adoration. 

— _Shiro, please! You’re my brother! I love you!_ —

Shiro smiled. _I love you too._

He took on each opponent, each time looking up to smile at Keith. The noise around him slowly faded out as he made Keith his sole focus. He couldn’t help putting on a show, either. After all, Keith was watching, his attention all on him. And Shiro was winning. 

He didn’t even realize when it was over. Even when it came to fighting his final opponent, it didn’t feel like any time had passed. Once he had turned the matches into a chance to perform for Keith, to impress Keith, and to revel in Keith’s rapt attention, the time just slipped away. 

But suddenly the crowd’s cheers filled him once more as he was suddenly lifted up by all of his friends (and Slav, somehow). He glanced about in mild confusion. When did everyone else get here? 

Keith was the only one not lifting him up. Instead he was walking towards him, all the pride and affection glimmering in his eyes. A rush of excitement which Shiro had never felt before filled him. He was about to say something, but then he was pulled back again, given his medal, and the crowd cheered again. But his eyes never left Keith’s.

*

“Do you still have the dolls?” Shiro asked.

Keith nodded and produced them from his belt. He placed them on the shelf beside Shiro’s medal. 

“All of these are really your prizes,” Keith said. 

Shiro licked his lips. “I want you to have the dolls. I struggled hard for them.” 

They both chuckled. 

“I shouldn’t have left your side,” Keith said. “I thought I had seen something, and then I was trying to get some of the kids to talk with me. Hunk and I ended up on some stupid ride that kept breaking down every two seconds. When we finally left, I searched for you and was horrified to find you in there. I’m sorry.” 

Shiro smiled. “It’s all right. I feel better now, like I had faced my fears back there. Of course…” There it was, his cheeks turning red again. He laughed and rubbed his neck. “Of course…it helped that you were there. I never told you before, but thinking about you helped me through my time as a prisoner on Zarkon’s ship.” 

Keith’s eyes lit up. “Really?” He inched closer, and a tiny smile was beginning to grow on his face—so beautiful, Shiro thought. 

“Yeah,” Shiro said. “You were always such a good friend to me: being there after Adam left. Being at the launch even when my parents weren’t. I felt I had something to hold onto.”

Keith nodded. He was so close. 

“And seeing you now at the tent…it just gave me what I needed to combat through the noise and the old fears. You help me so much, Keith, even when you’re not actually with me, you—”

Keith’s lips brushed over his, and Shiro closed his eyes. A shudder ran through him as something building for many years began to crumble and fall. Years of exhaustion, of fear, of misery, of pain, of horrors unimaginable…they seeped out of him as tears rolling down his cheeks. His body shook, but Keith’s hands were on him, strong but tender. He kissed the tears away, then claimed his lips again. He wrapped his arms around Keith and let their kiss deepen, linger…he let himself express every drop of his desperation and desire and pain and gratitude for his best friend and soulmate with each passing moment. 

At last they parted. Shiro, pink-faced but feeling happy despite the tears, and Keith, beautiful and radiant, smiled up at him. 

“Happy to help you, Shiro,” Keith said, a little breathless, “as many takes as it takes.”


End file.
